


Laindéir

by Sutured_Sentiment



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, How Do I Tag, Light Angst, One Shot, Post-Adventure, Post-Book
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 15:32:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10924767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sutured_Sentiment/pseuds/Sutured_Sentiment
Summary: This is the Lost Chapter.The Shire is just beginning to feel like home again to Bilbo.Thorin's gone, but Bilbo won't let anyone forget him.





	Laindéir

**Author's Note:**

> This was a one-shot written for an assignment in my Mythology class. 
> 
> Assignment: Write a two-page fanfiction for "The Hobbit". Create a Lost Chapter for the story.

Bilbo let out a long relieved sigh as he finally pushed the last chair into place. He slumped into its plush cushions and looked around the room. He was back in the Shire and after finally buying back all his things that had been auctioned off, the it was starting to look like home again. It would have looked like he had never left in the first place, had there been his two chests of silver and gold sitting in the corner. He eyed them carefully, a weariness settling deep in his bones. He was still feeling the effects of his adventure. He looked around again, the only sound being the ticking of his mantle clock. It was too quiet.

He missed the sounds of booming laughter and the stomping of thirteen other pairs of feet. Bilbo had become accustomed to the company of the dwarves, and the sudden silence was like a crushing weight on his chest.

Bilbo shook his head as if to rid himself of the thought. If he dwelled on it for too long, it would surely drive him mad. He gave a mighty sigh as he pushed himself up out of his chair. He grabbed his coat from the rack that was now far too empty and set a hat atop his curly head of hair before stepping outside. It was a brisk autumn morning, and he found himself enjoying the cool wind on his face that only a year earlier would have kept him inside the warm safety of his hobbit hole.

After a while of wandering the winding trails of the Shire, his nose was quite red from the cold. He reached into his jacket pocket, fishing for his handkerchief (He would be sure never to leave home without one again). As he took it out, something small and hard hit his wooly feet. He glanced down. Laying on the ground was an acorn. He picked it up and stared at it with wide eyes as he became lost in a memory.

_ Mirkwood had been a dark, frightening place. Monsters lurked in the shadows and any wrong step would be his undoing. As Bilbo and the dwarves trekked along its worn path, they were feeling increasingly hopeless. Their stomachs ached painfully from hunger and their throats were rough as sandpaper. Bilbo was beginning to wonder if they’d ever make it to the end of their journey at all.  _

__ _ They had just stopped for the night and Bilbo had first watch. He was clutching his sword tightly, his knuckles white and shaking. As he paced around their makeshift campsite listening to the sounds of the dwarves’ loud snoring, he was amazed that anyone could  _ possibly _ sleep in such a dreary place.  _

__ _ He jumped when he felt something bounce off his head, flailing his sword wildly as his heart raced. _

__ _ “Bilbo? Are you okay?” He looked up at the sleepy voice and saw Thorin stumbling towards him. Bilbo let out a shaky laugh. _

__ _ “Yes. I’m fine.” He bent over and scooped up the object that had fallen. A small acorn rested in his palm. He frowned. Where, in this dark place, had an  _ acorn _ come from? _

__ _ “Can we eat it,” he asked and his stomach rumbled at the thought of food. Thorin shook his head and Bilbo instantly deflated. He was about to toss it back when Thorin took it carefully from his grasp and stuffed it in the front pocket of Bilbo’s coat. _

__ _ “Keep it,” he said. Bilbo gave him a questioning look. _

__ _ “When all this is done and you’re back home, you can plant it. A reminder that even in the darkest of places, there is life.” _

__ Bilbo blinked and found himself back in the Shire, still looking at the acorn from that night. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes. Without another thought, he turned and ran all the way back to his home, the acorn clutched tightly to his chest, and his handkerchief all but forgotten.

When he reached his familiar hill, he dashed past his door and started climbing. By the time he reached the top, he was red in the face and out of breath. He kneeled at the top his homely hill and began digging, ripping out grass and clumps of dirt. When he had a decent sized hill, he dropped the acorn in and buried it.

When he was done, he sat there for a while with his head bowed and tears streaming down his face. He drew in a shuddering breath and tried to smile. One day, a tree would grow here, atop his hill in the Shire for all to see. Thorin’s memory would live on with it, for as long as its leaves continued to grow.

    _Even in the darkest moments… there was life_ ** _._ **


End file.
